The Journals
by Angelicalynn
Summary: Some say keeping a journal is very helpful for dealing with ones emotions... (explicit ch's will come latter) m/m ss/hp hp/ss
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Of course I do not own Harry Potter in any way shape or form. I make no money off of this…blab la bla. Really with the hundred thousand harry potter fanfictions out there is disclaimer even necessary anymore?

Also, if you've read any of my other stories you know I write pretty explicit smut. Though I'm not jumping into lemony goodness right away it will come. **NOT for anyone under the age of 18 or whatever the age of consent is in your country.**

_**9 May, 1998**_

_Many psychologists, as they are referred to in the muggle world, as well as many mind healers in our world recommend the use of journals as a tool to deal with ones thoughts and feelings. A load of bubotuber pus if you ask me. However, I do not wish to speak these thoughts out loud so this appears to be my best option at the moment. _

_This undulating cornucopia of emotions began the night of the fall of the Dark Lord. The battle itself had gone on for hours though it felt like days. The staff and many extremely brave students fought off so many deatheaters and dementors that the spots of blood turned into puddles that turned into pools. Never have I ever killed so many individuals whom I once knew. While I feel no regret, nor will I shed a tear of their loss, I nevertheless feel as though I have yet more blood on my hands._

_It is not the loss of these deatheater so-called colleagues that has my emotions in a state of turmoil. It is of course, as always, one Harry James Potter. It was not the beautiful raw power that the boy exuded as he killed the Dark Lord, that brought me to the state I am in but the events that happened immediately thereafter._

_As I saw the last bits of HIS soul rot and disintegrate and felt as though I could finally rest. During the battle my leg had been broken, among other things, and I finally gave out, slumped against a tree slithered to the ground. I was finding it hard to breath and I thought, no I felt for certain, that was how I was going to die. That it only seemed right that I not get to see a Dark Lord-free world. That I did my part and now I could rest in peace. _

_I could not help but watch Potter as he continued to fight on. Even after killing HIM he still fought against the remaining supporters. I fought to stay awake. I had to make sure that he was truly safe before I finally truly gave up. When the last of the supporters had either been killed or ran away in fear, Potter seemed to stop and take in the carnage before him. It was then that he met my eye._

_Covered in blood and soil and himself limping ever so slightly he walked toward me. __**Of course I could not die in peace!**__ I believed the boy had come to, if not kill me, then berate me for every atrocity he knew me to have committed over the years. _

"_Professor Snape!" he called out to me. I felt a deep ache in the pit of my stomach and my heart as I watched him approach. I realized at that moment how much I cared about this boy and how poetic and just fitting that I would die in such a way. I froze up as he reached for me. __**No! Apparently death by magic would be too good for me. He would end me by his own hand.**__ "Now don't fight me. I'm too tired. Please let me just take you to the Madame Pomfrey." _

_I could not believe my ears. The boy did not say one scathing remark, threw not one hex. Instead he picked me up and told me to lean into him as he helped me across the field. I cannot describe to you how hard it was to hold back the tears at that moment. Here was a boy that just gave our world its freedom. No, I must stop referring to him as a boy. I don't believe he truly has been a boy for years. But a man who himself was tired and in pain carried me to medical help. When I asked him why he wouldn't simply use a levitation spell, he stated "It just doesn't seem dignified to levitate a war hero. I've been your burden for many years, at least let me do this."_

_Now you see why my emotions are in the state they are in. I am proud of the fact that I did not die of shock right there on the spot. When I had I missed it? When had the arrogant, pig headed idiot of a boy turned into such and insightful beautiful young man? I have relived the memory of this night over and over in my mind and I have cried. Oh yes, the snarky, bitter old man did cry. _

_The memory no longer brings tears, but merely a sense of awe._

_I was under a medically induced coma for four days while my body and magic healed. Each day Potter came to visit me. He would talk about the clean up and steps they were taking to start rebuilding Hogwarts. Of course I could not respond, nor see him, but I could hear him word for word. I wondered if he had even slept since the battle. When will you ever rest?_

_I was released just two days ago and have been forbidden from both Poppy and the Headmistress from helping with the clean up for at least a week. I playcate the old cat. Tomorrow I shall return to the world I only wonder if I still have a place in it._

_10 May 1998_

_I ran into Potter today. Or I should say he ran into me. "One would think the ability to dodge hexes flying at you at lightspeed would mean that you could dodge a mere person traveling down a hall." Silently I berate myself. This is the man who saved my life and this is what I say to him! _

"_I'm sorry professor." He mumbles and starts to walk way. _

"_I think not Mr. Potter." It is almost comical the way he stops and huffs out a deep breath of frustration. "It is I who should be apologizing. I have yet to think you for…saving me. For saving all of us."_

_He mumbled something about no thinks needed. How could he be so strong in the face of danger yet so humble, almost shy now. Those eyes which I have seen almost sparkle were now dulled especially by the dark circles forming underneath. I asked him to come by my office. Looking up at the clock, he should be here in a few minutes. I only hope that perhaps I can encourage him to take some sleeping drought tonight and find someone to talk to. I am sure the death of his friends must be weighing heavy on his heart. _

_When did I become such a bloody sap?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Yea TLcatlady, sjrodgers23 & Liz: The first 3 to review the story! Love you guys, much thanks and sorry for the slow update**

***Note: Harry normally starts his journal entries with Dear Journal and Snape just starts his with the date. That's how you know whose entry is whose.**

_Dear Journal, 11, May 1998 _

_I can't believe it. Killing Voldimort may be more believable for this. At least that I have been prepped and prepared for. This, while I secretly hoped it could happen, I didn't actually expect to TO happen. I am friends with none other than Severus Snape! Actually dear journal that is where you come from, but I'll get to that in a sec._

_I have been thinking, endlessly thinking about what has happened over the last year. After failed occulemncy lessons I was pissed when Dumbledore had assigned Severus to start training me beyond what I was already learning in DADA. During the lessons I started to respect his skills. I still didn't like him much but I could respect his skills. It was, I don't know, a few months after lessons started that I started to notice little things about him. I realized how expressive his eyes were and I got the feeling that there was more to him than all the vitriol that seemed to always spew from his mouth at me. I started to really pay attention to what he was trying to tell me. Don't get me wrong, it still wasn't bubbles and sunshine after that. But I found that at time he almost..almost..had a sense of humor._

_He became this puzzle I had to figure out. Not that he was constantly on my mind or anything. There was a lot happening that year. But he found that he at least a distraction from everything else. After spending more time about the man than I care to admit, I realized that he had spent a lot of time and energy and risked a lot over the years to save me and my friends a number of times. _

_When he killed Dumbledore, everything I thought I knew about him collapsed in my mind. I was let down once again and berated myself for thinking that he could have cared about me. I don't know why at the time that I gave a damn whether or not he cared but I did. _

_That night, before Hogwarts was seized and Severus was made Headmaster he warned the staff as well as my friends and I and he gave me a vile. Merlin! To think I almost killed him that night. The vile was of his memory of Dumble asking him to kill him to save Draco. I was disgusted and relieved all the same time. Disgusted that the old man would ask that of him though I understand why. But I was relieved that I had not been wrong about Severus. _

_I suppose you really want to hear about what happened tonight. Well he asked me to come by his office. I assumed he wanted to talk about how the reconstruction was going. But I thought, surely he would get that information from the Headmistress. Honestly I was scared. In my life I've come to expect the worst and most impossible things happing. _

_I expected to find him either hovering over a bubbling cauldron or at least grading papers at his desk. Instead I found merely standing in the room waiting for me. With a simple 'follow me Potter' he stepped passed me and started floating down the hall. I say floating because really the man does not walk. Glide, float, hover, whatever you want to call it, but I wouldn't call it walking. Ok, I'm rambling._

_He took me to his personal quarters! If you asked me years ago I would have guessed he chambers probably looked something like a torture chamber. Last year I wouldn't know what tell you but I would not have guessed something so warm and cozy. Granted the walls are lined with books. I probably could have guessed that. Aside from that the floor is covered in plush carpeting and the room also had an overly stuffed couch in front of the fire and a few regal looking leather chairs for company. Though one looked a little more worn than the others._

"_Please do have a seat Potter. Would you like some tea?" Yes, you read right, he said please. Then we started talking about how the reconstruction was coming along and after a few minutes he started to look a little uncomfortable. Of course most wouldn't have noticed any difference but I noticed the slight shift in eyes as he looked around the room as if looking for words to appear out of thin air._

"_Sir, something tells me you didn't ask me down here to ask about the reconstruction." I asked him. He told me I looked like hell had chewed me up and spit me out. I didn't know whether to get offended or agree with him. Ok, I kinda got a bit angry. "Well I've been more than busy, sorry that my personal appearance isn't to your liking." I said to him._

"_Potter. Damn it. What I mean to say is that you look tired. I can only assume you have not been sleeping." Understatement of the year! Oh I sleep, but it isn't long until my dreams are plagued by blood and scattered body parts. I still hear their screams anytime I think about it. Asleep or awake, I remember the screams._

_He gave me a vile of sleeping drought and told me to get at least one night's sleep in peace. He didn't ask for details. "You don't need to explain to me Potter. I know what you have been through. I am told that keeping a journal is beneficial to dealing with ones emotions." Couldn't he just say write down your thoughts, you'll feel better? He apparently had a spare journal, that's you dear journal._

_Better yet, you're spelled so that no one but I can read your contents unless I allow someone else to. So last night I actually got some sleep. I'm sure I won't sleep as peacefully tonight; but after several nights of no sleep and the drain of…well I don't feel like getting into that right now. I promised I'd meet with the headmistress at 10; so I need to get going. _

_11, May, 1998_

_Dear Journal_

_I just don't understand! We've managed to rebuild and reward the great hall and most of the class rooms. There are still several to go, but we've met little resistance. The central tower is giving us the most trouble. It's rebuilt, but we can't say how stable it is. Minerva (she refuses to let me call her Headmistress until classes begin again this fall) and Snape and I put our everything into the set of spells - the same ones used to ward most of the rest of the school – but it just won't take. I'm exhausted and I believe they are too. Looks like I'll find myself face first in stacks of books again this summer. Hopefully Hermione will be back from retrieving her parents soon. Research is more her thing really. Well, I really need to go to sleep. Good night journal._

_May 16 1998_

_Potter__Harry__, __Po, __Harry came for a visit. Yes, once again I found myself in sipping tea on a Saturday afternoon the world's savior. Though I found that is a name he does detest. All of these years I thought he basked in the attention. He however, decided to 'celebrate' in my rooms rather than attending the ministries ball. Can you believe such nonsense! Hogwarts hasn't even been rebuilt yet and their throwing a grand ball! Then to believe that Harry would rather spend the evening with a bottle of wine (unbelievably he brought an excellent Pinot Noir and a bottle of Champaign) in my company than that of he friends and family is preposterous. Yet he did make such a claim._

_I find myself quite comfortable in his company. I can not believe how I smile simply because he laughs. Its absurd! Utterly ridiculous! I find myself actually listening when he speaks. Not just hearing what is coming from his mouth, but actually caring about what he has to say. _

_I will not dwell on this another moment. There are other more important matters at hand. 1__st__ and for most in the central tower. Though __the boy__, Harry exudes such sure, constant, pure power with each flip of his wand as though he were merely flipping on a light switch; the tower refuses to stand strong. Within 24 hours of our rebuilding spells and charms, it crumbles into a power of rubbish. There must have been something different about they way the central tower was originally built and warded that was different from the rest. Not only that, the wards around the rest of Hogwarts do not f eel as tightly knit as they once did. It is almost as if the rest of Hogwarts is waiting for the final piece of the puzzle; that is, for the central tower to be complete._

_Secondly, I have started work a new potion; one with the effect similar to a sleeping drought but not as addictive. One in which the user could ingest on a nightly basis but would not accumulate in the body. This new endeavor has nothing to do with the fact that Harry still is suffering from regular nightmares. No, this is an improving that is long overdue. _


	3. Chapter 3

_May 17, 1998_

_Dear Journal,_

_Note to self: red wine causes a hangover headache like no other. When Severus knocked on my door at 10am this morning I would have sworn the pounding was in my head. Could he had not have given me the hangover remedy before lecturing me about sleeping in late when there are serious matter to attend to? Once again Severus to the rescue. _

_Hermione has managed to track down the author of "Hogwarts A History." No, not Bathilda Bagshot, but her great granddaughter, Elmeria. Apparently Bathilda went through several versions of the book before deciding to publish the edition that she did publish. Elmeria gave Hermione permission to go through the old manuscripts in her basement. I'm sure she's knee deep in hold documents by now, ecstatically happy. _

_Ok, so I totally jumped over my 'celebration' with Severus. Truth is I'm not ready to say how that went. I can only say that my imagination tends to run away from me when I'm drunk. He seemed much more relaxed and open than I've ever know him to be. I can only hope I didn't do anything stupid; though if I did I'm sure he would have mentioned when he delivered the hangover potion. _

_May 23, 1998_

_Ms. Granger is like a hurricane inside of a tornado when she finds something that is of interest to her. She is one the brightest; I dare say THE brightest, witch of her generation. Though I would never tell the girl that, dare I encourage her bossy know-it-all-ness. She stormed into my rooms as soon as I opened the door but mere inch. A virtual world-wind of facts about Hogwarts, its foundation and wards. Though she was not allowed to remove any of the copies of Mrs. Bagshot's works she was permitted to copy pages she felt were of import. _

_Many of the wards described in the texts we already have active or have tried to activate. However, despite being the very same wards she describes, some refuse to take. _

_Amongst the mass of information that was a random spell:_

_**One magic does not stop, no does another start.**_

_**Passion of the flesh, tangible heart. **_

_**No Beginning, no end; two souls forever intertwined.**_

_**What's mine is yours and yours is mine.**_

_**Through these two the magic spreads**_

_**Binds all wards like a million threads.**_

_**Through bonding rite, let seed create new life.**_

_It almost speaks of a love poem. It surly was a mistake to have such an item amongst her papers on Hogwarts. She was known to be a batty in her later years. Though I have read it a dozen times and feel like I am missing something. Obviously something about this poem did not sit well with Harry. After reading it I noticed his eyes were glazed and he was staring straight at me. He didn't even blink until Ms. Granger cleared her throat. The poor boy presumably was so deep in thought that he was greatly startled by the sound. He dropped the teacup he was holding, spilling, not only on himself, but on my living room rug as well. After a quick cleaning charm he made some mumbled excuse about needing to leave! I do not understand what goes on in that head of his. But his actions tonight have disturbed me._

_May 23, 1998_

_Dearest Journal_

_I watched his lips form the words and I was lost in their movement. I cannot believe I was so lost in the sound of his voice reading the poem. I didn't want it to end. I got hard. Can you believe it! Hard from a poem and it wasn't even that explicit. As I write this I realize how that must sound. I think I might feel more for him. Bloody hell! I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to know what that mouth tastes like. Merlin help me. How could I feel…you know, that way towards him. I've never wanted to grab and hold onto another as I wanted to do with him today. He's always had this…presence about him. Has always protected me in his own way. Is it wrong for me to think that it would feel wonderful for him to hold me. Maybe sit on his lap while I find out if his mouth is as acidic as some the things he says. Or maybe it tastes like his favorite tea? _

_He must think I'm an idiot. Like a stupid child I spilt my tea all over myself and his rug. I was so embarrassed and scared that he would see I was hard that I said something (I'm not even sure what it was) and ran. I fled! Ok, I was startled by my arousal, not just at the sound of Hermione's cough. I don't' get hard often. Ok, not ever really. Kissing Ginny or Cho always felt...comfortable but not arousing. But I got a hard-on listing to Severus read a poem! Am I gay? I can't be. All those years showering with other boys and I never got turned on. Then again, they weren't him. I don't know what to think and I don't know how I'm going to face him again. I need to go to sleep. Its been a looooong day._

_May 24, 1998_

_Blood. So much blood. Pools and rivers and haunted eyes. It's hard to write this, but it's supposed to help right? For most of the deatheaters an Aveda was too nice. No, they wanted to inflict pain. So many bodies on the ground with blood pouring from mouth and ears. I'm glad that my mates are safely at home; not here to hear my screaming at 1am in the morning. At least I didn't' vomit this time. When I'm around Severus, I don't' think of these things. Someone he keeps me focused on other topics. Just being near him is calming. I want to go to him now, but I just can't after the fool I made of myself earlier. Nor do I want to be hexed for waking the man up at this hour. To hell with this. I just stare at the ceiling until it's time for breakfast._

_May 25, 1998_

Something is wrong with Harry. I do not know why I worry so. Damnation, I do know why. I care about him. More than I should. I wish that I did not feel the ache in my hear that I did when I saw him at breakfast this morning. He looked as though he had not slept and was easily distracted. He jumped when I put my hand on his shoulder. I told him that if he needed anything; anything at all that my rooms would always be open to him. Especially should he need to talk. Part of me thinks he must have laughed at the offer. Why would he choose to spend more time with me?! However, part of me thinks, that perhaps, because of the bright smile I received in response, that somehow I do offer him some sort of comfort.

May 26, 1998

Dearest Journal

Its 3am as I write this. Yes another nightmare. I will focus on the problem of the wards. Yes. Another week has gone by and we still do not know why they continue to fall. Markus Maxwell. A deatheather managed to escape from the final battle was able to break past the first wards. He managed to get just inside Hogwarts gates before Minerva felt the wards breached. We must figure this problem out fast before any of the other students return. The Aura's have asked me to help with the capture of the few deatheaters that are still in hiding. Both Minerva and Severus insisted that it was important that I stay here to help protect Hogwarts until the wards are completely up. I feel selfish, but I was glad to not have to track down anymore murderers. I don't know why but I think that poem is the key. Maybe because it had such an effect on me from Severus reading it. Severus. What I wouldn't give to go to him right now. Just to be near him. I mean, he did say to come to him when I needed to. But at this hour? I'm literally shaking from the breach of the wards and from my nightmare. Dare I risk it?


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors notes: **

**First my apologies: I am sooooo sorry! ! **

I know its been forever since I posted new chapter to this. I failed to realize how difficult it is to write something entirely though journal entries especially when so much of my writing is heavily dialogue based. Then I was laid off of work. I've been spending much of my time job hunting and trying not to let my depression get the better of me. So I'm going to try my damndest to write a new chapter everyday and finish this thing!

Second: I've also started my own etsy shop. Please just take a look if you happen to like alternative/steampunk/vintage-y styled jewelry.

Its www . etsy shop / AngelsArtifacts

I would be honored if you could take a second to like the facebook, twitter, or tumblr page for my shop:

www . facebook / AngelsArtifacts

www . twitter / AngelsArtifacts

www . angelsartifacts . tumblr . com

(remove the spaces)

**hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp-hp**

**26, May, 1998**

For someone so strong to be so shaken is an abomination. It's a sin. No. Sin is the comfort I felt having Harry in my arms. I was awakened by a soft knocking at my door early this morning. He was already walking away from my door by time I managed to get my robe on. I had to yell for him to return. He was visibly shaken and looking terribly shy as he apologized for waking me.

I berate myself for caring so much about anyone. I cared for lilly. That is a massively misplaced understatement. Look where it got me. I spend the last several years being cold hearted and uncaring and it got me through a war. The minute I have hope for anything good is the minute I am reminded of what a fool even I can be.

However, as we sat on my couch in front of the fire I listened to him ramble on about nightmares and regrets. I was angry. Not at him, but life for being what it was and what it had been. If this had happened last year I would have told him to grow up, that everyone has pain. I don't know if it's because he saved my life or if I'm just too tired to be cold anymore, but I find myself wanting to comfort him. How ridiculous is that! Severus Snape wanting to comfort Harry Bloody luck-is-my-superpower Potter. I am torn. To hug him and offer comfort or to hug him and risk a look of disgust on his face as he realizes it is I that is holding him. Well, that should shock him out of his depressed state!

He sits on my couch with tear stained cheeks, hunched over, head bowed and clutching the tissue I had just passed him. He looks utterly defeated and part of me is amazed. Who is the real Harry Potter? The confident man who faced you-know-who? The man who carried a broken decrepit fool such as myself, across the battle field? Or the boy on my couch who as dealt with far too much in his life and whom I wonder has ever really been properly cared for.

At the moment all I see is a boy who is in desperate need of comfort. So I hug him. At first he is still and I fear that he will push away from me any moment, yell and run from my rooms. Dear merlin! He did not. Instead he reached his arms around me and buried his face in my neck. I don't know who received more comfort from this hug. The boy radiates warmth and I dare admit I did not want to let go.

Alas, I we did break our hold on one another. I don't know what made possessed me to do it, but I reached up and whipped away his tears. His eyes were so full of emotion that I could not comprehend and his lips were parted just begging to be kissed. I cleared my throat to break such thoughts from my mind. I had to get him out of my room. I cannot allow myself to go down such line of thought. The boy had been through so much without his perverted potions master lusting after him. So I abruptly bid him a good night. While I hope he was able to go straight to sleep once he reached his bed, I cannot say that I will be able to do so.

**May 27th 1998**

**Dearest Journal**,

I slept like I had been drugged. But I wasn't. No, this was soooo much better than a drug. I slept through my alarm. I didn't get up until noon at Minerva's very persistent knocking. I did go see Severus last night. And he held me! Well, after I cried like a little baby who just got their lolly taken way. It's really embarrassing. But instead of yelling at me, he just let me ramble on and get it all out of my system then he hugged me. But it was after the hug, the way he looked into my eyes and wiped away my tears. I don't think I've ever felt so connected to anyone in my whole life. It was like this magical moment where it was only him and I and the world be damned. Of course this apparently made him uncomfortable. I saw concern in eyes I doubt there was anything more than that. Though, for a brief moment I thought I saw him look at my lips. Did he think about kissing me? If he did the thought must have disgusted him because he quickly cleared his throat and sent me on my way. I think I really care about him. I think I want him. But I can't. He might care about me in some small way, last night's actions proves that, but it really doesn't' mean anything.

**May 28th**

_What am I doing? What do I want to do? How do I end up in these situations? Potter. The answer is almost always potter. Though my own idiocy, low self-esteem and quick temper may also to be to blame at times, I suppose. Hell! Why does it just now come to my attention that both the boy and I equally quick tempered? Is it any wonder that fighting with the boy came so easily while I had to maintain appearances for the dark lord? I suppose I should reflect upon what has brought me to such a state of mind? Reflection isn't that the point of this damned journal? _

_I had not seen Potter all morning. He was not present for breakfast or lunch. I assumed he was merely trying to avoid me after the hug. I spent much of the day furious with myself, much as I am now, but for different reasons. I awoke this morning with the thought that perhaps this was the reason I did not die that night. Perhaps I have not completed my task of looking out for the boy. My new mission was to aid in dispelling him of his nightmares and push him onto a path that does not lead to a type of self destruction. I began to wonder who he could turn to for guidance. Sirius was dead, not that the idiot would have been a superior role model. He and Remus were the only connection Harry has to his parents. I know Petunia was a jealous, easily scared child. I do hope that she matured as she aged. However, I have heard that Harry always requested to stay elsewhere during the summer, so perhaps he does not feel he could turn to his muggle family? Either way, I thought perhaps I could be support he needs in his life. I thought perhaps that it might even be welcomed help, if last night had anything to do with it._

_Of course when I noticed the boy was avoiding me I cursed myself for having such thoughts. I believed at that moment that my kindness toward the boy had been careless and in vain. Perhaps they still could be seen as careless. Only, it opened up the doors for something far different that animosity from the boy. Though he could be doing it just for the sake of the school. Once again playing the martyr. _

_I've gotten ahead of myself again! I should start with knocking at more door right after dinner…_


End file.
